Protocol
by teh-Sara
Summary: Juliet/Sawyer. Dharmatimes. "It's been three days since she’s seen him; exactly 2 hours since he missed his radio transmission time, but it’s not protocol to panic, not yet."


**Protocol**

**Author's Note: **I know, everyone wants an update of ISSWS, but I wrote this a few days ago, and I hope you all like it! I'll update ISSWS this weekend, I promise. :)

Enjoy,  
Sara

*

It's been three days.

Three days since she's seen him; exactly 2 hours since he missed his radio transmission time, but it's not protocol to panic, not yet.

"Something is wrong," she tells Amy.

Amy looks back at her with soft eyes and wills her not to get upset. Juliet's already chewed off all the fingernails on her right hand; she's currently working on the left.

Security checks such as this one were routine and only took place once every six months. They usually took a day, two at the most. Half the security team did a thorough check of all Dharma stations, ran maintenance on the sonic fence, and generally made sure the premises were safe.

Juliet had been apprehensive about this check from the get-go. There had been an abnormal amount of hostiles milling around the border, and more than once, James had been called in to check out the situation. Residents of the Dharma initiative that were privy to this information told each other that the hostiles were probably just curious about the new recruits. Namaste, recruits, meet your neighbors.

She'd asked him not to go. He'd been on the last two checks, and it was time he sat one out. However, this _was_ his first check as Head of Security, and he simply refused to give up the opportunity to run the whole operation. Of course. He'd given her a cheeky smile and told her to stop being so pessimistic – and when he got back in a couple of days, she could show him how much she really missed him.

But he knew it was dangerous, too; maybe that's why he went. Before he left, he told her to stay inside as much as possible, at least until he got back – _and don't give me that look, I'm just lookin' out for you 'cause I love you, got it? _She'd smiled – _I love you, too, James_.

"Don't make those kind of assumptions," Amy says.

"I have to do something," Juliet says, standing.

Amy makes a grab for her arm, but Juliet evades her. "Jules, you can't. James would be furious."

"He'll get over it."

She hits the door and crosses the quad in a quick walk, arms pumping and eyes set straight ahead. She hears Amy call after her, but she ignores the other woman's voice. _Whatever happens, I've got your back_.

The security station is still, quiet, obviously lacking valuable members of the team. A few men scatter past her; everyone is on alert, just in case the Hostiles try to take advantage of their lack of men. Each gives her a questioning look, but she barely sees their glances. When she bursts into the monitoring room, Miles is sitting before the monitors with his feet propped on the desk before him and a less than content look on his face.

"Show them to me," she says.

"I can't," Miles says, looking up at her stern features.

She knows he can't because it's been 2 hours since James and his team stepped out of the scope of Dharma cameras. If they were still on Dharma soil, they would've moved back into the cameras' views at some point – unless they weren't moving.

"Have you tried calling them?"

"Once, right after they missed their mark. Listen, there's no reason to panic. Sometime security checks take a little bit longer and – "

Juliet purses her lips. "And people go missing?"

Miles' walkie emits a brief, scratching yelp.

"What was that?" Juliet asks.

"Feedback from other walkies, probably. Been doing that for a while."

"Maybe they're trying to send a message," Juliet says.

"Or maybe their walkie died, which is what probably happened, and they'll come traipsing back onto those cameras any minute." Miles is trying to be hopeful, she knows, but she can't help but frown at this.

Miles' walkie screeches again; this time, a muffled voice speaks from the other end. He snatches up the instrument and holds it to his mouth. "Check team, do you copy?"

The walkie whines again, then a voice – it sounds like Phil's: "Copy base team, had some…" Static fills the line. "…but Lafleur…" Juliet holds her breath as static covers Phil's voice for a moment "shot," she hears, and after a pause, "dead."

Her throat and chest constrict, and she lets out an unearthly sob, as if it is being torn out of her very being. She feels her knees buckle and lock, and for a moment, she can hear Miles' voice, clearly. "Check team, you're breaking up. Can you relay your whereabouts?"

She vaguely remembers her knees hitting the tile floor.

*

_He's dead._

She wakes up in the infirmary later – hours, days, minutes? – long enough for them to get her here. There's something gnawing inside her stomach that she can't quite place. Was she sick? What happened?

_He's dead._

It hits her like a blur: what she'd heard on the static-filled walkie. It was a dream, right? She'd misheard, misinterpreted the message through all the static. That must have been what happened. She chews on her bottom lip and looks around the room – he's here, he has to be.

Amy jumps up from beside her. "Oh, Juliet," she says, in a way that is both sympathetic and mournful – in a way that says he's dead. She shuts her eyes again.

"Juliet," Amy says again. "How are you feeling?"

"He's dead," Juliet says aloud. She keeps her eyes closed; behind her lids, her eyes fill with tears.

"Juliet, we don't know that."

She wishes Amy would stop saying her name so much.

"Has anyone heard from them?" Juliet asks. She opens her eyes; Amy's gaze is tearful.

"No, but you've only been out ten minutes."

"Are they going to find them?"

"Almost the whole security team is out there now."

Juliet sits up slowly. Her head still feels a little fuzzy, and she can feel the blood pounding in her ears. "Can I go home?"

"I'll have to ask the nurses but – "

"I'm fine, Amy." She didn't need medical school to tell her that she hadn't hit her head. Miles must've caught her, or she must've caught herself before she fell. Her knees are still under the bed, and she pulls back the covers to inspect them. Blue knots had already formed.

"You're lucky you didn't break your knee caps!" Amy says with a little gasp. She feigns a smile.

Juliet doesn't respond. She swings her legs off the bed and stands successfully.

"I'll go with you," Amy says, following her quickly out of the room.

"I don't need a babysitter," Juliet responds.

Amy looks dejected, staring at her feet.

No one stops Juliet as she walks out the infirmary door.

*

She doesn't go to the security station, doesn't see the need in it. She doesn't know where he is, but she's going to find him. Even if he's dead. She needs to know for sure.

She leaves the front door wide open. She isn't planning on staying long, just long enough to pack some water in her bag. He'd be thirsty.

From the quad, she hears yelling, jovial and excited. She shuts her eyes for a moment and leans over the kitchen table, head in her hands. They don't know; the people don't know he's gone.

"What the hell – Juliet?!"

Her head snaps up so fast she may have whiplash, and she drops the bag on the table. It's his voice. _His _voice.

"Juliet?" he calls again. "Son of a – Juliet?!"

She swallows back tears, unable to emit any sound but a croak. She shuffles to the kitchen doorframe, clinging to it – it's him, it's him, it has to be.

"Juliet?" he yells again. He's back toward the bedroom; she hears the door slam.

"James," she says softly, and he's in the room in an instant.

"What are you – what the hell? The door was wide open, Juliet!"

She slides down the doorframe, tears streaming down her face.

"What? What? Did someone hurt you? Juliet?" He kneels beside her and thumbs away her tears.

"You – you. I thought you were dead," she says. She touches his arm – he's real.

"Dead?"

"It's what Phil said on the walkie." She draws in a breath and presses herself against his chest. He wraps his eyes around her and shushes her.

"I'm right here. You haven't got rida me yet."

She half-sobs, half-laughs into his chest. He rubs circles into her back.

"Followed some hostiles off the border, damn car died. Engine was completely shot and the walkie ran out of batteries," James remarks.

LaFleur. Shot. Dead. It all made sense now.

"Now why'd you think I was dead?"

She pulls back and looks him in the eyes. He's concerned, she can tell, but partly amused. She smiles slightly. "I was at the security station. I thought something was wrong because we hadn't heard from you. I was coming to find you, but then Phil's walkie call said something like you'd been shot and died. It was cutting in and out and," she takes a deep breath, "then I passed out – I don't know what happened. I woke up in the infirmary, walked out and came here, started packing up to find you – I don't know."

He looks angry now, puts his hand on her cheek so she'll look at him. "You don't do that – you don't come after me if I'm gone. Even if I don't come back."

She sniffs. "What, you going to run away?"

"Juliet," he says in a warning tone. "I don't want you to come after me. I don't want you to get hurt."

"I can handle myself fine," she says.

He stares at her a moment and then smiles, "Good, 'cause I can't handle you."


End file.
